Delicate Dance
by cadmiumred
Summary: They had been friends for years, and this was their last opportunity to become something more. But an unexpected intersection brings more questions than answers. AU
1. Chapter 1

They had been friends - close friends, best friends - for years and years. After nine years on the Enterprise, countless missions, thousands of breakfasts and a handful of kisses that never truly moved anything forward, they had settled into a comfortable - and occasionally tense - equilibrium.

Years ago, in passing, Beverly had told Deanna that she and Jean-Luc functioned around each other like a pair of satellites orbiting a planet. They stayed in the same general vicinity of each other, but the planet always kept them from collision. Deanna had blinked, then looked away and changed the subject.

Beverly always wondered what Deanna had thought of she and Jean-Luc.

The first time Beverly was at Medical, early on in the Enterprise's tour, she and Jean-Luc didn't speak. No messages, no viewer conversations, nothing. When she came back to the ship, she sat in his ready room while he shared convoluted words that could have been a kind, professional "welcome back" but could also have been an "I missed your presence every day and am overjoyed that you have returned."

She never did figure out what he meant. The years passed, and life on the ship moved forward. Deaths, births, the Borg, other romantic partners and the Kes Prytt experience that they never again spoke up. After the Enterprise was destroyed, she had gone directly to Medical with the wounded and never actually made it back out into the stars. As she was tending the wounded back on Earth, she ran into an admiral who had just heard about the Enterprise, and within hours Starfleet asked her to lead Medical again, since she had done so well previously, and would she be willing to fix what had broken in her absence? So with a mental shrug since she didn't have another assignment lined up at the moment, she again took on the challenge of the division.

The new Enterprise was still in dry dock, and the last she heard Jean-Luc went on leave, relocated to France and went off-planet for a dig.

They never contacted each other.

Seven months had now passed since she had stepped into Medical. She was sitting in her office in San Francisco, looking at her meeting schedule and debating whether to just get up and walk out of her office, hop a transport off of Earth and get away from this desk job, because why the hell did she not remember how much she truly, deeply detested this sort of work?

An incoming encrypted message appeared. Odd. She tapped the screen and brought it up.

INCOMING MESSAGE

From: Picard, Admiral Jean-Luc

To: Crusher, Admiral Beverly

Beverly,

I know that you are leading Medical quite ably, but the new Enterprise is going to be ready in a few days. Would you consider joining the crew as the Chief Medical Officer?

I miss you.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours,

JLP

She sat, motionless, perplexed and astonished. There was more to this message than a simple invitation to join the crew.

She turned in her chair and looked out the window. Her office was high up in the main skyscraper, and at eye level she could see roundabouts and transport shuttles sliding across the horizon. She looked up into the clear blue sky and in her mind's eye she could see the new Enterprise in dry dock, being prepared for its first mission.

She turned back to the screen and began to compose a resignation letter.

* * *

Of course, after sending her resignation letter to Starfleet and an affirmative response to Jean-Luc (both sent after less than an hour, because really she had made up her mind within seconds of reading his message) there was much to do. So much to do that she and Jean-Luc (once again) didn't have the opportunity to contact each other directly. At least, that's what she told herself in the few moments of silence she was able to find. The messages about her imminent transfer came through Starfleet (which was appropriate), and there was no pressing need to be in touch with Jean-Luc about her new assignment.

* * *

She stood in her bathroom in front of the mirror, realizing that her hands were actually trembling a little bit. Minutes ago she had received a message from him asking to escort her to the Medical Gala she was already planning on attending.

The function was semi-closed, limited to high-ranking medical personnel and their partners. It wasn't a large event; in fact it was small enough and private enough that she was surprised anyone outside of the medical field even knew about it. So when she had received the invitation asking to escort her, she had stopped there in the bedroom, holding her dress in her hands, startled beyond belief.

He had been researching her. And her obligations. And her schedule. This was the last event she had to attend before beaming to the Enterprise the following morning to report for duty.

Tonight was going to be the first time they would speak face to face in nearly a year.

She looked in the mirror and arched a brow at her reflection. Her hair wouldn't stay up - not the way she wanted it to, anyway. With faltering fingers she had been attempting to pin it up so that she had one of those twists that Kathryn Janeway always seemed to have on the holo images when she was talking about Starfleet. But it wasn't working for Beverly - red and silver strands were escaping every which way. She sighed and pulled out the stick holding her twist (somewhat) into place, watching the red and silver strands settle down past her shoulders. With a resigned nod she decided to just let it be.

The door chimed. She swallowed, smoothed down her black gown, and left the bathroom. "Come in," she called, carefully stepping around the containers in the hallway, packed with her belongings.

She stepped into the front room to see Jean-Luc in dress uniform, standing politely and patiently in the middle of the room, looking at the packed containers in piles against the walls. He looked up as she entered the room, and his face went from pleasantly neutral to soft, open, froze, and her stomach flipped at the expression on his face, because she confirmed in that moment that it was going to be different between them now.


	2. Chapter 2

She had simply disappeared after the ship was wrecked, and by the time Jean-Luc was able to track her down a day later, the computer said that she was at Medical, leading the damn division. Again.

He thought about contacting her, but then realized he didn't know what he would say. _Come live with me in France. Let's pretend Kes Prytt never happened and try to be together. _No. So he tended the vineyards for a month, then went off-planet for a dig, running away from the ghosts, digging through ruins as though he belonged with the other archeology students, scraping dirt off the remnants of a long gone civilization. Each day that passed left him to ruminate on the mess he had made over the years.

He loved Beverly Crusher.

If he pushed for her partnership, there was a chance that she would withdraw from him permanently. But if he didn't try, then she would most certainly stay at Medical, and there would be absolutely no chance, no opportunity.

Months later, the offer to command the Enterprise arrived. He accepted, gave the Federation his preferred crew roster (while telling them to hold off on selecting the chief medical officer), and returned to France. Days before the ship was due to depart dry dock, he sat down at his terminal, took a breath, and sent the message.

Her sparse, yet affirmative reply ("I miss you, too") arrived within an hour.

There was hope. And now it was time to show her how he felt.

* * *

She watched him with a flutter of nervous apprehension as he moved slowly towards her. When he was within arm's reach, he took her hand and slowly spun her around, observing her at all angles to take in her dress, her shoes, her hair.

It had been a very long time since she had been looked at in that way. And it was very new to be receiving such scrutiny from him.

He stopped spinning her and their eyes met. And he smiled and squeezed her hand causing her stomach to flip. _My goodness…something's changed. Between us._

"I missed you, Beverly," he murmured.

She smiled, couldn't help it, felt captured by his gaze. "I've missed you, too."

"Thank you for allowing me to escort you to the gala. I will have the most beautiful partner in the quadrant."

* * *

As they walked down the San Francisco street he kept glancing at her, smiling. And every time her stomach flipped in response. She took deep breaths, smiling slightly. Cautiously, she let herself begin to drink in the warmth of the sun and the contentment that came from being next to him.

They walked up to the doors of the venue, through shimmering lights strewn through the tree branches. As they approached the doors, he rested his palm against her back and the warmth of his hand was acute against her bare skin. While they'd always had a lax definition of personal space, tonight was different. More intentional.

And she liked it.

* * *

Dinner was surprisingly prompt and pleasant. Cuisine from across the quadrant, a selection of good wine and familiar friends bidding her farewell and best wishes as she ended her work at Medical to go back into the stars. He was attentive, sitting to her left, keeping her glass refilled and passing her savory bites to taste. Again, it was all very new, but she was enjoying it, refusing to overanalyze the situation. He had asked to escort her, and she had accepted, and he was being a perfect partner.

At one point in the meal, another admiral several seats down asked a him question, and he reluctantly turned away from her to answer. As she lifted her wine glass for a sip, she felt his hand on her knee.

* * *

The dinner ended and the crowds dispersed, divided between those who preferred to stand and talk and those who preferred to dance. He invited her to the dance floor, and it was wonderful to be in his arms. He was smooth, bringing back memories of the other Picard from years ago, and she allowed herself to rest in his arms.

"Are you tired?" His quiet murmur drew her from her memories and she met his eyes.

"A bit," she confessed. She really was, after spending the day packing the last of her apartment. He guided her off of the dance floor and they were intercepted by Admiral Jenning, from the security division.

"A moment?" he asked. Picard and Crusher followed him into a private room off the side of the gathering space. Picard and Crusher exchanged a glance, then stood and waited. Admiral Jenning cleared his throat. "There's a mission. The Enterprise's deployment has been delayed. The Federation needs the two of you elsewhere."

Jennings leaned close. "You need to leave tomorrow - the Renegade will pick you up tomorrow afternoon…"

* * *

She walked beside him in the evening light as the moon shone down upon the streets of San Francisco. After the orders, they had silently left the gala. She was just…confused. The intoxicating bubble of closeness they had formed over the previous hours, from the subtle touches to the smiles to the dancing…she felt cold. Like stone. It had been taken away. And she couldn't read his silence. Was he honoring her silence, or had he withdrawn?

They stopped in front of her home. She looked at him - really looked at him - in the moonlight. The lines of his face were so familiar. He was waiting for her to lead. "Come in," she stated, then turned and he followed. They entered and she set her bag down on the table, slipped off her shoes, went to the replicator. "Water?"

"Yes, please."

She handed him the glass and their hands brushed together and it was like a spark, a flame in the darkness. He drank, then set down the glass, turned to her. They were face to face, in front of each other. She waited.

"Beverly, over the past year, I realized that I missed you. I miss you now."

"I missed you, too, Jean-Luc," she replied cautiously. _What do I want?_ And she realized that she was _hungry_ - hungry for touch, for closeness, for him. Not just anyone - _for him_. She had been on several dates over the past months - nice men but none of them lit her fire, brought her out of her shell. And she was standing in front of him now…_hungry_.

And he leaned forward and kissed her.

She had _almost_ expected it, but it was still a surprise - and they had kissed before over the years, but this time he was barely restrained - instinctively she opened her mouth underneath his and a noise came from the back of his throat. Her hands were on his face, pulling him closer and his palms were pressed firmly against her back.

He pulled back and pressed his lips against her cheek, then rested his cheek against hers, let out a shaky breath. She slid her hands down his neck to his arms. She drank in the smell of him, which was so familiar after all these years. Then she leaned back and looked at him.

"Beverly, we've waited entirely too long to be together. I realized that over the past year I've...missed you. And if I make you happy, then we should be together..."

Their comm badges chimed before she could reply.


	3. Chapter 3

Picard rubbed his face. It was the middle of the night, and they hadn't slept yet, and they hadn't talked at all. The Renegade had picked them up with almost no warning, leaving them standing awkwardly in formal wear in a bright and chilly transporter room, being debriefed by the captain.

And now the two of them were on board the little shuttle, headed towards the anomaly. He glanced over at her seated beside him, idly tracing patterns on the console. She still looked distractingly lovely in her black gown, especially with all that creamy skin revealed in the back, but he could see dark circles forming under her eyes.

"Beverly, would you like to go and rest? I'm happy to cover the helm while we travel." She nodded and silently went to the back of the vessel, and Picard wondered what she was thinking about. They had not exchanged a single sentence since her apartment. He heard the door to the back of the vessel slide shut, and the ship was silent save for a few errant chirps, leaving Picard alone to his thoughts.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up to a hand on his shoulder. He looked up sheepishly, realizing that he had fallen asleep at the helm. She smiled down at him. "Perhaps you should have been the one to rest," she told him. He smiled in return, but noticed that she still looked tired. She had changed into a standard uniform and done something different with her hair, so it was straighter, brushing her shoulders. She sat down beside him.

"This is an unexpected journey, Jean-Luc."

"And what is this?" he asked cautiously, somewhat confused at her statement. At that, she smiled softly, carefully. "Us. Together." And he understood then - this was her way of determining if they could work together - and be together, as well.

She leaned back her seat with a wry smile. "Well, and a wormhole. It's not everyday you get to go through a wormhole, not knowing precisely what is on the other side and if it wants to destroy you."

* * *

Moments later, the roundabout approached the wormhole and slid through without any mishap, reappearing in a sector of space very much like the place they'd just left. Except for the presence of a federation vessel. A vessel that looked very much like the new Enterprise E.

Picard's fingers tapped across the board. "We're being scanned. Thoroughly."

"Mmm. Not surprised. I suspect we'll be hailed in a moment." The comm chirped, and he smiled at her accuracy. Across the speakers came a familiar voice.

"This is the Enterprise. Please state the nature of your mission."

Picard startled a bit. He recovered quickly, however, and replied. "This is Jean-Luc Picard. We were told that we may be of assistance to you."

Silence. Then: "Prepare to be brought aboard the Enterprise. Picard out." And a tractor beam firmly entrenched the small roundabout, and it slowly headed towards the Enterprise.

"Well." Beverly laced her hands over her knee. "This is going to be interesting. I don't know if I can handle two of you."

* * *

As the roundabout's aft door raised, Picard observed a security team and a stiff doppelgänger waiting for his exit. Picard carefully indicated that he was not armed, noted the somewhat familiar faces of the security crew, and approached the other captain. Beverly quietly waited inside.

"I mean no harm. I come from…another universe. We bring information."

His mirror looked him up and down, then nodded once. "Security, stand down. If you're seeking information, then perhaps we can be of service. But you'll need to tell me who else is in that shuttle." He tugged down his uniform front.

Picard turned around to see Crusher carefully exited at a slow pace, hands up as well.

"Beverly." At the word from the mirror captain, Picard turned back - and was astonished at the expression on the man's face. He looked like, well…a man who saw someone he cared about very much. _Do I look like that when I see her?_

Beverly came to stand beside Picard, arms crossed loosely in front of her. The mirror Picard cleared his throat. "Well. I think you should both come with me."

* * *

In the private conference room, Picard and Crusher finished updating the mirror Picard about the Sora situation, explaining that they were attempting to determine what the Sora were hiding in this mirror universe.

The mirror captain crossed his fingers, leaned forward across the table towards the pair. "In our universe, the Sora are building an army. And designing a virus that is intended to kill off most humanoid species across the quadrant. This ship is a decoy; we're attempting to distract the Sora while my wife-" At that statement, the pair stiffened in surprise. "-Beverly, works on a vaccine at Medical back on Earth. We're racing against time until the Sora decide to attack - unless you two have information that could assist us…?" He looked expectantly at the pair.

"We do," Beverly said. Both Picards turned to look at Crusher in surprise. "We have a vaccine. I created it. And my Jean-Luc-" And inside Picard softened at the term of endearment. "-defeated the Sora in a battle last year. We can help you."

The mirror Picard stared at the intent pair for a moment, then nodded once. "Then we have work to do. If we can destroy the Sora here in this universe, your universe should be safe from invasion. And perhaps your vaccine will work here, as well. After you help us, I'll make sure you get back to where you came from."

* * *

Crusher walked beside the mirror Picard down a deserted corridor towards the lift. She was lost in thought, thinking about the virus structure - and about Jean-Luc. Both Jean-Lucs. When they entered the lift, she turned and looked at him.

"Jean-Luc." Her voice was soft, gentle.

"Halt lift." He turned and faced her, gazed at her face like he was a man starved for the sight of her. "I miss my wife. We're under orders to maintain silence, and we haven't spoken in two months. I miss her presence. And you…I know you're not…my Beverly. But. It is good to…be with you."

They stood silently, and Beverly watched as his eyes filled with tears, and she noted just how vulnerable he looked. He slowly moved a hand towards her face, cupped her cheek with his palm.

Beverly moved forward on an impulse, suddenly wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face against his cheek. She inhaled, taking in the scent of him, and softly kissed his cheek, then pulled back, sliding her hands down his arms.

"I'm sure she misses you, too. Deeply." Her voice was a quiet murmur in the silent lift.

A nearly imperceptible frown slid across his face. "Why aren't you with your Jean-Luc?" She stiffened at his blunt question, but he continued. "He loves you, you know. It's evident by the way he looks at you."

Her mouth dropped open. "It's…complicated. And we're working on it," she breathed.

"Mmm." He arched a brow and stepped away, and suddenly she felt very alone. "Computer, resume lift. Beverly, there's someone I want you to meet in Sickbay." She stepped away, crossed her arms, looked at the wall of the lift.


	4. Chapter 4

Picard pointed the way and Beverly waited alone in the office, fidgeting a bit. She walked over to the desk and peered down. It looked…empty. Her counterpart had been off the ship for two months, and it showed. The office looked…barren. No pads strewn across the desk, no tricorder...she idly slid her fingers across the smooth surface.

"Um, hi." Beverly looked at the door, towards the direction of the quiet voice - and froze. A young man stood in the doorway, wearing a blue and black medical uniform and blue smock. Strong features, blue eyes, dark hair, thin but broad frame - and he sounded just like Jean-Luc. The same warm timbre to his tone. Picard stood slightly behind him, watching the exchange intently.

"Dad explained what happened. And that you're my mom's counterpart from…another universe. And he told me to come say hello. And ask if you wanted some help with your research?" He walked towards her, reached out his hand.

She didn't move. Couldn't move. She was astonished. _We_ _have a son together. Why didn't I think of this? Why didn't I ever think of…this? What our child would look like? What could be? Or could have been?_ She inhaled sharply, took his hand, noted his firm handshake, his tentative smile. Drank in his features.

"You look a lot like my mom," he said. She smiled sheepishly, and the sparkle in his eye looked just like his father.

"I…well. Hello. It's a pleasure to meet you…?"

"Oh! Victor. I'm Victor. Hi." His smile deepened to reveal a deep dimple in his right cheek. And she couldn't help but smile in return.

* * *

Picard stood in the conference room, meeting with the science and tactical team. They slid into conversation about the battle that the medical fleet had engaged in and prepared to incapacitate the Sora army. After nearly an hour, the mirror captain arrived. Several officers seemed amused at the presence of the two captains and left the room with smiles on their faces.

Picard sat, as did the mirror Picard.

"We have one more visitor on the way. She'll be here in a moment." And the doors slid open to reveal a tall, slim young woman in science blue, with red hair, blue eyes and a graceful smile. She came over to the table, sat down, and Picard was speechless. _Why didn't I expect this? I never allowed myself to imagine...oh my._

"Hello." Her voice was quiet, and he realized that she was younger than he thought. Nineteen? Twenty? And she looked just like Beverly - from the way she sat to the way she folded her hands on the table and glanced at her father- _I'm a father in this universe. With Beverly. We're together...and happy_. Unexpectedly, his throat tightened with emotion.

* * *

In Sickbay, Beverly showed Victor how to craft the substances needed to culture the vaccine. As they worked, he hummed. Suddenly, he stopped humming, but still continued to manipulate the culture. "So what happened between the two of you?" His eyes never left the culture, but she had the sense that he was fully aware of her every expression, her every move.

And she knew that this young man was referring to her relationship with Jean-Luc.

She took a deep breath to cover her sudden nervousness. "Nothing happened. We're...well..."

"Ah."

His tone rubbed her the wrong way. She stopped what she was doing and turned towards him, putting her hands on her hips. "And just what does 'ah' mean?" _He sounds just like his father…and I sound just like a mother._

He stopped working as well, turned and faced her, still holding the tool in his hand, gesturing. "Nothing. Happened. That's your problem. _Nothing. Happened._ Look, I'm not here to play matchmaker, and I don't even know exactly why Papa sent me to work with you - anyone could do this work. He probably wanted me to meet you. But anyway - I can tell that you are not happy. And I know that my mom _et ma pere_ are happy. Joyful. Content. I've never, ever seen Papa like this until Mom left to go to Medical - he's so despondent, so _fragmented_. He misses Mom. And I see the sadness in him reflected in you - and I've just met you!" He held her gaze for a long moment, then huffed out a breath, closed his eyes.

"You're wasting time. You don't know how much time you have together until it runs out."

* * *

The mirror captain was called to the bridge, leaving Picard alone in the conference room with this young woman. He was having trouble making sense of the sight of this poised young woman in front of him, this woman who had Beverly's hair, blue eyes, graceful frame...

"How old are you?" _Merde, that wasn't a gracious greeting._

"I'm twenty-one. I'm supposed to be at the Academy, but Earth was evacuated. Mom's still there, though - we think. We assume so. She was at Medical, working on a vaccine against the Sora threat. She's been gone two months now."

Picard watched as she took a deep breath, then met his gaze again.

"So. Victor and I are here - evacuated from the Academy and sent to stay with Papa. Mom will come back as soon as she can. I miss her. Papa misses her, too. Terribly. I've…well. I've never seen him like this."

"Victor?" His mouth was dry.

"My brother. He's a medical officer, finishing his field rotation here on the Enterprise, since we can't be at the Academy." A son as well? _Merde_...

"So. What is your Beverly to you?"

Picard blinked at the abrupt change of subject, the directness that was a splitting image of her mother. And knew that he was in over his head with this young woman.


	5. Chapter 5

Picard was leaning back in his chair, watching Sophie talk. He had successfully redirected her from asking about his relationship with Beverly by asking about her studies and her work on this Enterprise. At the moment, she was gesturing, explaining some experiment she was taking part in down in Engineering. _She looks like her mother._

The doors slid open to reveal the mirror captain, Crusher and a young man following close behind, in a medical uniform. _Victor_, thought Picard, and stood to greet him.

The mirror captain began to speak. "Unfortunately, we need to get you back to the wormhole as soon as possible. While it would be a pleasure to visit with the two of you, the Sora seem to be preparing for battle, and we need to get you out of this universe before engaging. But I thought you'd-" and he nodded at Picard, "-want to meet Victor before leaving."

Victor went up to Picard, held out his hand. "Sir." But his smile belied the serious greeting. Beverly and Sophie greeted one another as well, and Picard saw out of the corner of his eye that they were the same height.

Suddenly, the deck shifted. The mirror captain spoke. "We need to get you off this ship."

* * *

After a sprint down to the shuttlebay, Picard and Crusher jumped into the shuttle and sped back towards the wormhole, away from the battle. "Beverly, I'm going to maximum warp-"

"That's fine. Get us out of here and get us home." The pair tapped at the console, urging the sturdy roundabout through evasive maneuvers. After several tense minutes, the roundabout darted into the wormhole and reappeared on the other side - back in the original universe.

"All intact and back home. Let's get back to the Enterprise." He felt himself settling into the routine motions of piloting a roundabout already set on autopilot, avoiding engagement with Beverly. Finally, he leaned back and sighed. "We'll be back on the ship in six hours."

She nodded.

"Our daughter reminded me so much of you." He blinked, surprised at the words that had just come out of his mouth.

"We don't have a daughter." He was taken aback at the flatness of her voice, turned and looked at her.

"My apologies. Their daughter was - I assume - a splitting image of her mother."

"We can't go back in time, Jean-Luc. We don't have what they have."

"I wasn't asking for that," he whispered sadly.

She stared at him for a moment, then turned and faced the viewscreen.

"Beverly, what is it?"

She was silent for a moment, then looked at him with an expression he couldn't decipher. "That Jean-Luc was happy. Content. He loved his wife."

Picard was silent, wondered where she was going.

"He loved her. They loved each other. Victor gave me a copy of their family holos. I'm afraid to look at them."

"Afraid?"

"Afraid that it will feel too...natural. Too good. I'm afraid of loving you. And afraid that you'll want something I can't give you. We can't go back in time and claim what never existed."

She bit her lip, something he had never really seen her do, and suddenly she looked very...lost. _No, hopeless._ Like the love of her life had been taken away from her- _merde, I've seen her look this despondent before..._

"Maybe we're too late, Jean-Luc. Maybe we've been in love with the idea of love, not what we actually have." She swallowed, looked down.

He leaned over and covered her hands with his.

"As appealing as that universe was, I choose this universe. With you. Right now. And we have something between us - something good, something whole, something real - something that belongs to us. So...trust me. Trust us together. We will shape this love, this life together."

She looked at him and he didn't know if she believed him, and at that moment his resolve strengthened even more.

"You're still coming with me to the Enterprise…?" He intended it to be a statement, but it turned into a question, because he (as well as anyone) knew that she would do what she wanted.

She sat motionless for a moment, then nodded, holding his gaze. "Yes. I'll come with you. And let's…try. And see what happens."

* * *

As he spoke, covering her hands with his, she was unnerved by his intensity...ah. He was afraid. She saw it now, the tightness around his eyes, the faint tremor in his hands. He was afraid that she was no longer going to go to the Enterprise with him. Strangely, his nervousness calmed her down. She was facing the unknown, yes, but they were both facing new territory.

She smiled at him and watched as he nearly sagged with relief. She was ready, ready for this delicate dance to begin in earnest between the two of them, because going to a gala? Dancing? A kiss in her packed apartment? That had been good but this, _this_ was real. They were going onto a ship together, and preparing to serve alongside each other (hell, technically, she outranked him, having served as an admiral at Medical) but they would be public, and they were on the edge of becoming something more than what they had maintained all these years.

"So while we try, what do you want from me?" she asked him. His eyes widened imperceptibly, and he sat back in his chair, leaving her without his touch, which made her a bit sad, but it was time to negotiate, so it was probably a good thing.

"Share my quarters, Beverly." He watched her steadily for her reaction.

"No. It's too soon." She held herself still, and she watched his face fall imperceptibly, and realized that he had been _serious_. _Oh my. _

"I want to spend my nights with you, Beverly." She continued to sit motionless in her chair, but she felt herself flushing against her will. He certainly wasn't holding anything back.

"I don't really think we're to that point yet, Jean-Luc," she replied, then mentally berated herself. _Yet? What a choice of words._

"Yet?" He asked quietly, with a raised brow and a mischievous smile. She couldn't help but smile in return at his amusement.

"We'll see. What else?"

"Share meals with me."

"I'll have breakfast with you." And at that he leaned towards her again, and his voice softened. "Beverly, we're not going back to how we were before. We'll make this work. But you have to give me _something_. I'll give you _anything _you ask for."

She blinked, startled. He was serious. He was fully invested. In her. In them. Together.


	6. Chapter 6

Camille York, captain of the Renegade, stood silently beside her first officer as they watched as the two officers exit the shuttlecraft. She clasped her hands behind her back to disguise her nervousness. She had to inform them that they would not in fact be taken to the Enterprise, but had been assigned to a diplomatic negotiation. The Enterprise had already departed on its first mission, minus its captain and chief medical officer.

York was not happy about being the bearer of this news. Commander Forte was aware of her discomfort, and stoically stood beside her, also watching Picard and Crusher approach.

"Captain. Admiral," York said.

"Please, call me Doctor," said Crusher, stepping off of the platform in tandem with the captain. York's eyebrow quirked. _Interesting choice of title. _

York took a deep breath, then began to explain the situation as Forte handed them both padds with the full mission details. Crusher and Picard stood motionlessly, almost eerie in their stillness, taking in the news. York noticed that they had the same posture – attentive, chins up, holding the padds with both hands. Interesting.

When York was finished sharing what she knew (which certainly didn't take long), Picard glanced at Crusher, who seemed very…neutral? She began looking down at her padd, scrolling through something. Picard then returned his attention to York.

"We understand. If those are the orders, then we'll just be going to our quarters to get some rest and prepare for the negotiations."

York blinked in surprise, noting that Forte tilted his head in surprise at their reaction. That was it? No protest? No dismay that their flagship had left without them, leaving them to complete some negotiation on a non-Federation world? Well then. But first...

"Sirs, actually, Commander Forte is here to escort Doctor Crusher to Sickbay so that she can view the lab and request any changes to be completed by the morning. The research team is waiting for her. I do apologize; I'm aware that the two of you have been on a special mission and haven't had much rest..."

York watched Crusher glance up at Picard with an apologetic look. He met her eyes for a long moment, then seemed to realize that he was in the middle of a group conversation. He looked back at York and nodded once, smiled wanly.

* * *

Beverly appreciated Forte's silence as they walked through the corridors of the Renegade. After a few short statements, Forte seemed content to walk beside her quietly. It was the middle of the night, and few crew members were out and about on the vessel. The corridors looked like nearly every other ship she had been on; she felt disoriented, due to lack of sleep.

They entered Sickbay, and the lights were dimmed due to ship's night. The facility was standard, with biobeds and displays all around. A nurse noticed her entry and waved her back towards the research lab, and she stepped away from Forte to enter – oh my. There was a full research team waiting for her in the lab, even though it was the middle of the night. They looked up from their conversation at her entry, with welcoming smiles.

As introductions began, she shook the hand of the chief medical officer - and stopped in surprise as their eyes met. It was Logan Wilson. They had gone to the Academy, then Medical together, and even spent some time in a relationship long, long ago before realizing that they were indeed better off as friends. It was good to see him; they always got along very well, and he was brilliant. Fond memories of long, late night talks arose, and his smile seemed quite genuine, drawing out her own grin.

Once the introductions were finished, another doctor pulled up her research on the main viewer, and she began to speak to the team.

* * *

York walked with Picard to the guest quarters. He was pleasant, making small talk about her vessel, which was kind; her ship was nothing special compared to a galaxy-class vessel, but his interest seemed genuine, which she appreciated. He looked exhausted, however, and she wondered when he had last slept.

As she left him at the guest quarters with a pleasant good night, she thought about the two newest guests on her ship. She knew that Picard and Crusher had served with each other for years before the Enterprise was destroyed, and she'd never had any reason to muse about their relationship – the Enterprise was a ship that didn't intersect with her modest vessel. But as she walked down the quiet corridor, she found herself wondering what went on on that ship. There was…something between these two. Not sure what, but…there was something. Absently, York thought about her own CMO…and immediately ended that train of thought with a wrinkled nose and a frown. _No thank you._


	7. Chapter 7

Crusher was lost in her own thoughts as she slowly walked to her guest quarters, hands in the pockets of the blue smock Wilson had given her when she kept looking for a place to put her tricorder. York's announcement upon their arrival had been quite a surprise, but when York had mentioned the Trium, Beverly's mind went back several years. After Kes Prytt, she had been interested - deeply interested - in how humans and other non-telepathic species could acquire telepathic traits. When she was at Medical, she had come across two tiny, isolated samples from the Trium race. Little was known about them, other than their hive-like communities. And that their run of the mill viruses could affect humanoid brains in areas related to communication. Crusher's research had ended with speculation that continued exposure could force humanoid brains to gain empathic or telepathic powers. But she had no more samples to work with, so her research was at an impasse.

Now the Trium were asking for Federation assistance with agriculture, of all things, and diplomacy. This gave the Federation leverage to secure additional samples. Crusher was very curious about the Trium; she had never met a Trium in person and was curious about how they would communicate with those outside of their race.

The lift stopped, and she stepped out, treading slowly, steadily, exhaustion forcing her to focus on every step, then down the corridor to a set of doors that opened up for her. With a slow blink, she took in the spacious living area of a family-style cabin, with a larger common area and several open doors along the perimeter, revealing comfortable bedrooms. Distantly, Beverly realized that the newer, smaller vessels featured this housing style, suitable for research teams or families to travel long tours together. She stepped inside the main area slowly, looking around, and she recognized her small bag on a shelf against the wall. Upon closer inspection, she saw that her black dress - the one from the gala that she had hastily shoved inside her bag when they got on the shuttle - was carefully arranged on a hanger. She blinked in surprise. And the holocube from the other universe was sitting beside her small bag.

Apparently Jean-Luc (_at least I assume it was Jean-Luc?_) had unpacked her bag for her.

She remembered an offhand comment she made while in the shuttle. She had mentioned that she liked that dress, and she didn't have occasion to wear dresses like that very often, so as soon as they got to the Enterprise, she would be sure to hang it up and save it for the next big event.

He had remembered. If it had been anyone else unpacking her bag, she would have found it profoundly invasive. But if Jean-Luc had done it...it somehow felt okay. Kind, even.

And then she saw the main table in the eating area. A carafe of water and two glasses were on the table, one glass half full, the other empty, waiting to be filled. _Apparently we're sharing these quarters? Or he had a drink and then left?_ She went over to the pitcher and poured a measure of water into the empty glass, drank deeply. As she set the glass down, she looked across the room into one of the bedrooms.

Visible was a relaxed Jean-Luc sitting on top of a bed, dressed in black, holding a padd, the lights dimmed to fifty percent. He was watching her, and when she met his eyes, he smiled. Her stomach flipped. He looked so content. And intoxicating, in those black lounge pants and shirt, no boots or socks...

_We _are _sharing quarters. My goodness. Did he wait up for me? It's practically morning. And we haven't had a decent night's sleep since Earth. And he's dressed for bed. _With a weary but pleased smile that she hoped covered the nervousness blossoming in her stomach, she walked over and leaned against the doorframe, watching him. He held her gaze, looking utterly relaxed on the bed.

"Good morning, Beverly." His quiet murmur carried across the bedroom, and the sound of it caused a slight thrill up her spine. His voice felt so intimate, and he was obviously waiting for her, on his bed...

"I suppose it is morning," she mused, licking her lips. Her fatigue came rushing back, then, and she sagged a bit more against the doorframe. His bed looked so comfortable...

He patted beside him. "You look tired. Come sit down. How was Sickbay?"

She stayed leaning in the entryway, not sure about actually joining him on the bed. It felt so _intimate_. And anyway, she was still in uniform, which made it feel odd. But if she were not in uniform, that would be also be odd, but in a different way... _Focus, Beverly_. "It was fine. There's a strong research team ready to work. And I flagged some reports for you to read before we meet the Trium."

"I saw." He lifted the padd. "I've been reading them. Your primary research report is quite...interesting." He paused, watching her carefully. "Come join me?" He asked tentatively.

She hesitated in the doorway.

"Just come sit down, Beverly. That's all."

A stab of confused disappointment slid through her at his final statement, but she pushed it aside. She _was _exhausted, and all she wanted was to sit down. And she wasn't ready to sleep yet. Slowly, she walked over to the opposite side of the bed, then sat down on the edge, not facing him. "I'm wearing my boots still." _Goodness, I sound weary. And a bit whiny._

"So take them off," he replied from behind her, seemingly unconcerned.

She took them off, then sat fully on bed, on top of the covers. It was a comfortable bed. A _very _comfortable bed. And she was damn tired. She leaned back against the abundant mound of pillows, looking across the room, listening as he leaned back as well. A companionable silence fell.

After a moment, he spoke. "You wrote a report about Kes Prytt."

"Not about Kes Prytt, per se, but about the potential for developing telepathic connections within humanoids. Our experiences were an excellent case study."

"I suppose they were. And the Trium can act as a catalyst for developing telepathic abilities?"

She shifted. This bed was _fantastic_. Perfectly firm underneath her aching back. "Yes. We need another viral sample to learn more, however."

"We will arrive in about eleven hours. Perhaps we can secure a sample as we negotiate."

"Good to know." She sighed again, turned her head and looked at him. He lifted his brows with a slight smile, inviting her to speak.

"This bed is very comfortable, Jean-Luc." She was drifting, truly relaxed for the first time in hours, days, and the words had simply slipped out...

"It is. You should stay."

She remained silent then, not sure how to respond, still holding his gaze. The firm bed made her feel languid, calm, but sharing a bed? She wasn't entirely sure that was a good idea.

"Computer, dim lights to ten percent," he said softly, then got up and headed towards the main door in the near darkness. "Stay, Beverly. Let's get a few hours of sleep before we begin the negotiations. I replicated clothes for you. They're in the bathroom." He nodded towards the other doorway in the room. "I'm going to get some water. Would you like some?" He stepped out of the bedroom then, presumably to the water carafe and glasses.

She sat up in shock. He planned this? Well, no, not quite. She knew him. He had _hoped _for this. Hoped that she would spend the night (_well, the morning_) beside him. Well, why not? She had no good reason to say no. Although perhaps her inability to come up with a reason stemmed from the fact that she hadn't had a full night's sleep since…Earth?

_Oh hell. Why not?_ She got up and went into the bathroom, closed the door before she could change her mind, realized she didn't tell him that she didn't need any water. And sure enough, there was a set of silk pajamas on the counter. They were her size, in a rich, vibrant black, soft and smooth to the touch.


	8. Chapter 8

Picard had nearly given up on waiting for her and was seriously considering climbing under the covers to go to sleep when she entered their quarters with a weary sigh of relief. He heard her stop, out of sight, then walk slowly towards his line of sight, to the water pitcher. She looked simply exhausted, shuffling steps, shoulders slumped, as she poured a glass of water and drank deeply, her hair falling behind her shoulders in the starlight. He was stuck once again by the clean lines of her profile, familiar after all these years. And she had acquired a lab coat since he saw her last, which he found quite amusing and somewhat unsurprising. Then she had put the glass down and seen him there in the bedroom.

Their conversation was careful, easy, and he invited her beside him. Her flagging posture made him itch to get up, go to her, carry her in his arms and place her in bed, but he held himself carefully still, hoping he didn't give away just how much he wanted to be closer to her. And when she sat on the bed, took off her boots and laid down, it was all he could do to refrain from leaning over and kissing her to make her smile. But as she gradually relaxed beside him, he waited. And when she looked at him, he saw the dark circles under her eyes, and he knew she needed to sleep. So he left, giving her a moment to get ready for bed.

When he returned, she was climbing under the covers, dressed in the black pajamas he replicated for her. He admired the contrast of the dark silk against the skin of her neck, and the flash of collarbone revealed as she pulled the sheets up toward her chin. She settled back against the pillows with a sigh, closing her eyes, as he climbed into the other side of the bed, laying on his back.

"Jean-Luc?"

"Yes, my dear?" _Ah, I didn't mean to call her that._

A long silence, then a quiet murmur, "We need to go to Sickbay before we beam down. Establish a baseline of our physiology, in case there are reactions with the Trium."

"That's fine."

"Thank you for hanging up my dress."

He smiled up into the darkness, turned his head to look at her. "You're welcome. I hope you'll wear it again. For me."

She laughed softly and looked at him, her eyes glittering in the starlight. "Perhaps it's good that we have some time alone together on the Renegade. A bit of privacy before we reach the Enterprise."

His breath caught. This was another explicit step forward, especially since she had lapsed into silence for most of the shuttle ride to the Renegade. Her eyes were sleepy in the darkness, and she smiled shyly at him.

"Good night, Jean-Luc." She turned onto her side, away from him, and he watched the gentle curve of her hips under the covers for a long time.

* * *

She woke to sounds from the bathroom. She felt rested. Surprisingly rested, and she laid there, savoring the feel of the warm bed. And then she looked over as Jean-Luc came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, and nothing else. His chest was firm, with a dusting of hair, and his arms were defined. The smell of damp air wafted from the portal, and another scent - ah, it was his cologne? His soap? There were undertones of sandalwood, and it was so familiar that she smiled at him. And with a jolt she realized that she was appreciating the view.

Distantly she realized that he had stopped and was smiling at her, too. And a blush started to creep up her chest onto her cheeks. She was pretty sure that she had never seen him like this before - relaxed, casually shirtless, still a little damp. It felt very, very intimate._  
_

"Good morning, Beverly." Ah, his voice. It was low, warm, familiar. _Goodness, we just spent the night together, and he sounds rather satisfied with himself. _She might as well enjoy these few moments together before they had to get to work. She smiled widely up at him.

* * *

He left the bathroom to see her staring at him (well, his chest) with a faint smile. He had assumed she would still be asleep when he was finished showering, but apparently he was wrong. "Good morning, Beverly," he murmured, and her eyes snapped up from his chest to his eyes, and he watched her begin to blush and he began to do the same with a quiet laugh.

"It's all yours," and he gestured towards the bathroom. She threw back the covers and got up and stretched, and he was taken aback at how...well. She was lovely. And he had spent the night next to her. Well. She walked towards the bathroom, crossed in front of him, and seemingly absently reached out and slid her fingers against his stomach, then entered and closed the door.

Well. _Well_. Things were getting interesting.


	9. Chapter 9

She left the bedroom, dressed in uniform and lab coat, and found him placing a basket of croissants on the little table by the window. He glanced up, "I made coffee," nodded towards the steaming carafe. She smiled and gratefully poured a cup of coffee, took a sip of the steaming brew. He slid a padd towards her, tapped at the report on the screen. "Beverly, I have to ask..does the research team know that you and I were the two subjects in your report?"

She set down the mug, taking in his careful posture. _What is he afraid of?_

"No. They only know that I studied the two subjects in depth. Which is most certainly true," she said almost to herself, as the side of her mouth quirked up in an involuntary smile.

He nodded, looking down, then up, as if he had reconciled something in his mind. "You do realize that I love you, Beverly, don't you?" He was quite matter of fact with his pronouncement, and her eyes widened at the unexpected turn of the conversation, along with the unnerving intensity with which he was gazing at her. _Well, yes, but-_

He stepped closer to her, so that they were face to face, and since she was dressed in uniform and boots, nearly eye to eye. His voice dropped to a focused murmur. "Beverly, I love you in every single sense of the word." She stopped breathing, mesmerized by his intensity, distracted by his closeness.

"And I intend on making sure that everyone else knows it, as well."

She blinked slowly, in utter shock now. And he leaned forward and kissed her. _Oh my._ It was firm, full of intent and just on the edge of forceful, then he drew back a tiny bit, lingered, and she felt herself softening underneath his mouth, and she felt his hand slide underneath her hair against her neck, and his palm and fingers completely covered the back of her neck, his thumb brushing against her ear as he pulled her against him. Her hands went up between them and her palms pressed against his chest, the fabric of his uniform warm against her hands.

This was a very, very good kiss. He pulled back and she felt herself leaning back towards him, missing the contact, missing him, and he slid his cheek against hers. "We're supposed to be going to Sickbay, aren't we?" He whispered into her ear.

_What? Sickbay? Oh. Oh. Yes. Sickbay._ She backed up slowly, meeting his eyes, distracted by his closeness and also a little tiny bit irritated that his mere kiss could disorient her so. Perhaps the reason she had stayed at arms' length from him all these years was because they didn't have the time to simply fall into bed together. The chemistry was just that potent.

"Beverly." It was a statement, not a question, and he gently kissed underneath her ear, in the hollow, and she shivered. "Sickbay," he whispered.

"Hmmm. Yes, Sickbay." She stepped back and broke their physical contact, needing a moment, and he was watching her face - ah, he was endearingly nervous, not nearly as confident as he had sounded when whispering in her ear. He was assessing whether he had crossed a line too soon. She gave him a reassuring smile, then, impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed him again. This time, her hands were on his face, and she guided him.

Far too soon, she pulled back with a contented sigh. "We should be going to Sickbay. And I love you, too, Jean-Luc. I have for a very, very long time." He smiled at her, and her stomach flipped. _This is going to be so much fun._

* * *

They walked down the corridor towards Sickbay, just like they had hundreds of times before on the former Enterprise. But this time, his hand brushed against hers. In the past, hands brushing against each other _happened_, but it was an unspoken rule that such contact was reserved for behind closed doors, giving comfort or reassurance. The brush of his hand against hers, in the middle of the corridor, it was new, different.

Sickbay was just around the bend. The clear doors slid open at their approach, the pair entered, and Beverly smiled at the warm, familiar bustle of energy. It was midday, and there were doctors, nurses, crew, patients sitting, standing, talking, healing. It felt alive and vibrant. She saw Wilson from across the room, and he lifted his chin in a greeting and came towards them across the main bay with a smile.

"Beverly, you look well rested. And lovely as usual." He gently, almost absently touched her arm, then greeted Picard. She turned to watch them, glanced at Jean-Luc, then focused sharply. He was glowering at Wilson, darkness radiating off of him. His expression…well, she hadn't seen that expression on him since the previous Enterprise. He was flat, closed off, icy cool.

Withdrawn. And furious at something.

It disturbed her.

* * *

Picard and Crusher stood in the middle of Sickbay as Wilson evaluated the two, explaining what he was doing. "I'm recording a baseline for your brainwave signatures. As Dr. Crusher said, there's something about the chemical makeup of the Trium that has the potential to affect other humanoids and their thought processes. Ideally, this will be manifested only as simple headaches and generalized physical pain, but we'll make sure that we observe your brainwave signatures just in case."

With that proclamation, he snapped closed his tricorder with a warm smile. "You're both free to go. I hope the negotiations go well. And Beverly, take good care of my lab coat."


	10. Chapter 10

As he walked down the corridor beside her, he could still feel the press of her lips against his mouth, the bitter hint of coffee present, and the warmth on his face when she had pressed her palms against him. This morning's kiss brought back the vivid memory of their kiss on Earth, even though it felt like it was a lifetime ago. But that memory was intoxicating, delicious. And this morning's kiss had been simply irresistible.

This morning, he had awakened first, turned over and saw her sleeping peacefully next to him, on her back, breathing gently. Beverly at rest was a sight he had rarely glimpsed, usually experienced when they were under duress: trapped on a planet, waiting for rescue, or curled up around a dying campfire, lying on the hard ground. To see her content, relaxed, asleep in a bed beside him? Perfect. Just perfect. And this morning, as she sipped her coffee, he decided that he needed to kiss her again. So he did.

Now they walked down the corridor, and he carefully and deliberately brushed against her hand. She didn't look at him, but he still saw the upward tilt of her mouth as she gazed straight ahead. Then they had walked into Sickbay, and her smile expanded until it was wonderfully full, and she looked so contented. Her shoulders had straightened and he knew that she was at home. But then Wilson had come over and touched her. Wilson touched her arm, in full view of the entire Sickbay, as if he was deeply familiar with her.

Beverly was always warm and open with her medical crew, but this interaction was somehow different. It was too intimate. A flare of anger sliced through Picard and caught him by surprise, even as he glowered at Wilson when the man tried to make pleasant opening conversation.

_She belongs to me._ He was instantly ashamed at the archaic, possessive thought that coalesced in his brain, causing tension to slide down his arms, through his chest. He struggled to pay attention to what the doctor was saying. _Beverly most certainly doesn't need an owner_. He was mortified that the thought even existed in his mind, but this was why his previous relationships never worked. He was either distantly removed or truly, utterly possessive.

_Merde. _

But the fact remained that in this particular moment, he did not care for Wilson. At all. Because Wilson touched his Beverly. He felt himself glower through the perfunctory exam and was highly aware of Beverly's underlying tension as she stood beside him in the middle of the bustling Sickbay. As soon as they were finished (and after Wilson had made some throwaway comment about Beverly wearing his lab coat), Picard left Sickbay quickly, not proud of himself. He heard Beverly walking rapidly behind him and the moment the doors of the lift shut he turned to her, ready for whatever she was prepared to throw at him. But instead she turned to him, crossed her arms, and waited.

He met her steely gaze, and before he knew it, words began slipping out. Not the apology he felt he should give her, not placating words, but the absolute truth about how he felt. "He had no business touching you." His voice sounded flat, menacing, even to his own ears.

She blinked at him, the slow blink that meant she was both furious and thinking furiously, then she replied. "I'm sorry?" she asked quietly. Her brow arched, the only movement on her otherwise still body.

"He touched you. On your arm," and he nodded down towards her arm. Then the lift opened and he thankfully walked out, not stopping to see if she reacted, quite aware that he was escaping, leaving her to follow, which was truly silly because she was the one leading the talks. And York was waiting for them in the transporter room, bringing a sigh of guilty relief to Picard. For the moment, the conversation was over. But it would return, and he needed to face the fear that had been simmering since Sickbay.

Maybe he didn't have the ability to be rational when it came to loving Beverly.

York greeted the pair with a smile, gaze flicking between the two of them, and Picard was _sure_ that the captain could see the tension between he and Beverly. But she covered her inquisitive look with a welcoming smile. "Ready?"

The pair stepped onto the platform and beamed down to the Trium planet, into a simple room outfitted with a square table and four chairs, two on each side. Two Trium negotiators turned from the window and approached. They were tall, willowy. The beings had violet-grey skin and dark, dark eyes. Their hands ended in black talons that looked elegant – and held the potential for deadly force.

Picard had not seen anything like them before, but Beverly stepped forward slightly and nodded her head in a welcome greeting. The shorter Trium spoke first. "Doctor and Captain. Welcome to our planet. We anticipate fruitful conversations in the coming days, and are pleased that you have arrived as a pair. We value paired units in our community and view your arrival as a sign of fruitfulness and potential success." The being clicked his/her talons together and gestured to the table.

Following Beverly's lead, he walked to one side of the table and sat beside her. Without any additional greetings, the negotiations began. Distantly, Picard was reminded once again how well he and Beverly worked together.


	11. Chapter 11

_Trigger warning: insinuated violation/rape/violence in this chapter._

* * *

Hours into the negotiations, the attack came, surprising both the humans and the Trium. The doors opened unexpectedly and phaser rifle fire coursed through the room, almost immediately incapacitating the two Trium negotiators. Spattered in grey-blue fluids, Picard threw himself over Beverly, trying to protect her from the shots, when a beam seared across his right shoulder. He fell to the ground in agony, and then a vicious kick from an invading Trium shoved him to the side of the room. He watched helplessly as another two grabbed Beverly, hauling her up onto her feet as she scrabbled to hold on to something, anything, to avoid being taken. One pressed what looked to be a hypo against her neck, she went limp, and they transported her away in a green shimmer, leaving him alone amid the bodies of the Trium negotiators, retching, lying on his side on the cold stone floor beside the overturned table.

* * *

She sat in a chair, wrists bound in a metal device that administered a shock when she struggled or moved more than necessary. The room was empty save a metallic bed and a cabinet against the wall. She tried not to think about what could be in the cabinet. She estimated she had been in here alone for nearly an hour. She had returned to consciousness already bound; there was no way to tell how long she had been unaware of her surroundings.

The door slid open and four Trium entered. They were unfamiliar, but they wore white robes – no, medical smocks. She swallowed, tried to maintain an impassive expression on her face. Medical smocks were _not_ a good sign. She wasn't afraid of dying, but she wasn't too keen on speeding up the process, or on getting there in a creative way, orchestrated by four unknown Trium.

The shortest Trium came and knelt down beside her so that they were nearly eye level with each other. _Female_, Beverly thought.

"We need what is in your mind." Her voice was a sibilant hiss; Crusher couldn't tell if it was intended to be alarming or simply the creature's natural register. In any case, she remained silent.

Another quiet hiss, then, "You wrote this." It was a statement, not a question, and the text from her Kes Prytt report appeared in the air in front of her. _Oh no. _

"I did," she quietly replied. No sense in lying at this point. Better to see what they wanted from her.

"We need you to show us how to use this information to create a weapon." The creature's voice was surprisingly soft, coaxing. And there was a flicker of _something_ in Crusher's mind. She stiffened.

_Show us how to use your research for our own needs._ The voice was inside her mind. And it was like the Trium's talon was inside her mind, too, peeling away her meager little defenses, digging, stabbing, and it wasn't graceful at all, it was intrusive, and the edge of pain, like a scrape that was almost a stab and Beverly lost the ability to breathe because it was so foreign, like a smell that had no parallel in her experience or a color that was more of a _texture_ than a shade-

And then it turned into a sliding stab that caused her body to stiffen in the chair, and the cuffs on her wrists shocked her in protest but she barely noticed because she needed this creature out out out out of her mind out no no no no horrifying no-

- her mind translated the violation into a physical sensation, being touched, _penetrated_, and the invading force picked up on that and it was as though the talons were cupping her intimately-

The Trium sat back, disengaged, rocked back on her heels and watched impassively as Crusher attempted to suck in a breath and avoid vomiting the contents of her stomach all over herself. She vaguely wondered if this was what a Borg invasion felt like, and she felt utterly hopeless.

"Please don't," she whispered, because she had to say something, _anything,_ even though she knew it wouldn't matter. But as one entity the three other Trium moved forward, lifted her from the chair and swiftly laid her on the metal bed. They didn't restrain her and Crusher thought for a moment about trying to run but before she could run they all pressed their palms against her, on her arms and legs, holding her down, and the female leaned over and pressed both palms against her face, looking down at her.

"Show me how to create a biological weapon."

"Please don't," Crusher repeated in a whisper.

"Show me," and there was a cool stroke against her mind, almost a lovingly sexual caress. Then the cool stroke turned into an icy hot stab that turned into four stabs that were scooping into her mind like it was sand, the talons seeking knowledge, sifting for the information they needed and she felt her identity being pushed away, losing what it meant to have a mind of her own and the ability to direct her own thoughts, and distantly Crusher began to hope for death so that the violation, the pain would end before she fragmented into a million pieces.

* * *

Picard stood in a conference room on the medical deck, listening to York give direction to the security teams. "She has to be on the planet somewhere. They don't have the technology to transport her off planet. Find the dead spots and invade. As soon as you find her, we're leaving. There's more to this negotiation than what's on the surface, and there has to be a reason why they took her and not Picard. Dismissed."

The security officers left and Picard faced York with a slight wince. Wilson had repaired the burn on his shoulder, but the skin and muscles were still tender. But what was worse was the horror he felt - Beverly was gone. The Trium had taken her.

"We'll find her." York's voice broke through his deliberations. He nodded slowly.

"And we'll figure out why they wanted her."


	12. Chapter 12

Her mind was a jumble of organic chemistry, biological weaknesses, an overlay of the humanoid brain, and creative methods of dissolving brain matter. It was impossible to obscure her knowledge when someone/something was aware of her every thought. The Trium pushed and prodded her mind so that against her will she crafted the perfect biological weapon, capable of decimating entire populations in a matter of days.

Distantly, amid her grief at how her skills and knowledge were being ripped from her mind, she realized that the pressure had lessened. She still wasn't _alone_, but there were fewer presences, and no one was directing her thoughts. Just one presence, now, in her mind - the female. _The doctor._ Crusher opened her eyes to see the dark, glassy eyes looking down at her, bright lights behind her head, illuminating the glossy skin. She couldn't escape if she tried - the Trium had immobilized her so that she couldn't even scream, and her body refused to move. The creature was in her mind, just _waiting_.

Waiting for what?

_This_.

And the Trium tasted her. It was _different_, though, than the previous pressure - it was a leisurely caress with no goal, not searching for information about chemical bonds or viral strains. Just profoundly uncomfortable pressure, rubbing against her mind.

_Your taste is pleasing to me._

Beverly realized slowly and with mounting horror that this Trium - this _doctor, _such a perversion of the _meaning_ of doctor- was _enjoying_ the taste of her mind.

_Not quite. I most enjoy the taste of your pain._

And Beverly's mind exploded in a white hot starburst of agony.

* * *

Picard was still in the conference room, wishing he could be on the surface of the slowly rotating planet below but knowing he would just be a hindrance, barely mobile as he currently was. Then the ship snapped to warp, and the view shifted to a streaking starfield. His comm badge chimed.

"York to Picard. We've got her. She's in Sickbay, and we're heading to Earth."

* * *

She realized that she was screaming in her mind, but the Trium matriarch (her mind helpfully supplied that the Trium used a matriarchal system) kept looking down at her with what had to be a smile? Like how a being would look down at a well-loved pet. It was so disconnected from the agony she was inflicting; Beverly wished that her mind had truly fragmented, but it was fully present in the pain, in the pleasure that the Trium was taking from her every mental twitch and attempt to escape the relentless onslaught, pressure, invasion. The creature sighed happily, her hot breath on Beverly's face, when the Trium suddenly mentally withdrew.

Beverly was alone in her own mind. _Alone_. It was exquisite, but entirely too sudden. Was this a trick? A tactic to lull her defenses? She watched the Trium frown at a display that had appeared in the air, covered in writing of some sort, then the being made a guttural sound and stepped away from the table-

-a familiar sensation engulfed her, one of a transporter beam-

-and Beverly was looking at the ceiling of a standard Federation Sickbay. The shift was overwhelming, and as she blinked she realized that someone new was her mind.

* * *

Picard entered Sickbay in a sprint and saw Crusher immediately, lying on a bed in the center of the treatment bay, surrounded by Wilson and two other doctors. The medical crew were exchanging short, tense commands and using an array of medical tools on her. She was lying there motionless, staring up at the ceiling, still covered in grey blood spatter. As Picard reached the bed, Wilson glanced up and stepped aside, continuing to work, so that Picard could step closer and see her. She was pale, so pale, skin translucent, her uniform soaked through with sweat, crusted blood at the corners of her mouth. Her stare upwards was disturbingly vacant.

Tentatively he reached out his fingers and touched the back of her hand that was resting on the bed, reassuring himself that she was really there in front of him.

Her eyes widened and snapped to the side to meet his, and her back arched and she sucked in a ragged breath, then screamed wordlessly, and he had _never_ heard her scream before, _ever_, but it sounded like she had been screaming a long while because her voice was splintered, fractured, and every single doctor and nurse sprang into frantic action. She was pushing herself off the bed, and he was frozen in shock as she jerked her hand away from him, staring up at him in terror, scrabbling, trying to get away and down off of the bed-

-his mind was overwhelmed by her shriek - _get out get out get out of my mind_ - and then it was like a lance, a stab, a fiery shard that made him involuntarily stumble back, and all he wanted was to get _away_, flee to safety, because there was the memory of a face looking down at him, and there were lights in the background and he remembered the lights and the Gul and he couldn't tell how many lights there were but he would do anything to make the pain stop-

He realized that he was on his knees on the floor of Sickbay, clutching his head, and the pain had just slid away, leaving him breathless, gasping, and the memory of lights and agony had been too much, too horrifying to revisit.

He looked up and saw her limp body on the bed with her arm hanging off haphazardly; she was obviously unconscious, and all three doctors were gripping hypos, and heaving in breaths, and one knelt down beside him, looking in his eyes, flipping open a tricorder, as Wilson was focused on scanning Beverly's limp body. It was like seeing her through a haze, because he _should_ feel something at the sight of her motionless body up there on the bed but his mind was a jumble and he was just so thankful that his mind was no longer being invaded and that the lights (it has been so long since he had remembered them so vividly) were just a memory.

Picard sucked in a breath, then another, now shaky and limp, kneeling there on the floor of Sickbay, feeling the adrenaline course through him, a rising sensation of nausea developing, as the doctor in front of him watched him intently as she scanned him.

"What just happened?" he croaked, feeling as if there were shards slicing into his throat, his vocal cords.

The doctor flicked her eyes down on the tricorder's display, then back up and met his. "I have no idea, sir."


	13. Chapter 13

She was staring up at a ceiling, and there were several doctors examining her, carefully, quickly, quietly. She was not alone in her mind, but it didn't hurt, it was just another presence, and it was familiar somehow. Or was that just because she had gotten used to the feel of the Trium in her mind? Distantly she realized that it would be at this point that she should let out a manic giggle of joy at the fact that there was only one other presence in her mind.

She felt disconnected from her body, not sure how much time had passed, sensing inward, seeing if she was fractured, broken, or just mentally sore, and what exactly had the Truim taken from her? It was all so hazy, and she needed to organize her thoughts and tell these doctors, warn them about something-

- the tentative touch on her hand brought an overwhelmingly white-hot burst of noise in her mind, and she was snapped to the present, sucking in a breath, trying to pull her hand away, looking up and meeting Jean-Luc's frozen, horrified gaze-

- she realized that _he _was in her mind, but it was oppressive and excruciating, like fire licking sensitized nerve endings, it wasn't like Kes Prytt, no not at all, that had been uncomfortable but manageable, and the terror she had displaced while immobilized by the Trium rushed back, and she couldn't do this again. Instinct took over, and she fought to get up, get away and off of this bed, catching the look of horror on his face but she needed him out of her mind

- a flash of pain and terror coming from him overwhelmed her even more. His mind was not nearly as orderly, as focused, as directed as the Trium mind, and it drew out her memories, and the image of the Trium face peering down at her brought up a horrifying image of four lights - or were there five? - and a Cardassian face but oh god she needed to get away

- hands on her body pressing her down again but she couldn't do this again she'd rather die

- cold on her neck and darkness pulled her under

* * *

As the doctor continued to scan him, other medical crew had abruptly dragged him to his feet and over to the other side of Sickbay, dumping him unceremoniously on a bed, holding him down as they began an array of tests. Images were suspended above him, quickly shifting readouts and symbols, but he strained to look through them and over at Beverly's limp body across the room.

He had _felt _her mind. And she had been _terrified_. Just the memory made him tense up in remembered horror.

A man was looking at him, calling for his attention. Picard dragged his gaze up to the man's face. It had to be the ship's counselor, according to the odd uniform with the pips. "How are you feeling?" the man asked cautiously. But before Picard could speak, Wilson appeared at the man's side, raising a padd.

"You two were the Kes Prytt patents, weren't you?" Wilson demanded, intensely looking down at him. Picard looked up at him in shock.

"Yes. How did you-"

"We have her reports, and her current scans align with the report's data. Except that her brain matter has expanded since then. She's wide open to telepathic connections. The Trium must have done something to her, and early reports show that _your _brain is responding to her increased capacity. What did she tell you just now?"

Picard was frozen, unable to answer. Too many questions, and his mind was still sore, for lack of a better term.

"What did she say?! You need to tell us _immediately_." Wilson frantically demanded again, ignoring the pointed look from the counselor. "We need to know. The Trium took _her_ and not _you_ for a reason - it has to be medically related. What did she say about her abduction?"

Picard shook off the nurse trying to fit some sort of device onto his head, raising himself up on his elbows, feeling very undignified as he tried to get up. He did not want to be interrogated while lying on a biobed. "She didn't say _anything_ - all I saw were memories of a Trium staring down at her, and there were lights-" he cut himself off, stomach roiling, because the flash of memory from her mind had triggered memories from his abduction, things he did _not _want to think about, and had she caused that to happen deliberately?

"Captain." The counselor was touching his chin, pulling his gaze up again, bringing him back to the present. And he realized that he could still feel her? He felt something. And it was like Kes Prytt, when she was asleep by the fire and he could feel her mind at rest. He struggled to focus on the counselor, because all he wanted to do was follow her mind down, down and rest with it, with her-

"Captain! You need to focus. She didn't tell you anything?"

He sucked in a breath, focusing on grounding himself. "No. Nothing."

Wilson's shoulders dropped. "Damn it. We need to bring her back up, and you need to find out what they did to her and why they wanted her."


	14. Chapter 14

Picard felt out of place in the operating room, but he refused to step back from her biobed. Standing next to him were five doctors, two nurses and the ship's counselor. Captain York was over by the wall, arms crossed, face blank as she watched the assembled crew. Picard tried to ignore the alarming equipment around the perimeter of the room; the operating room was the only place in Sickbay with enough space to hold so many medical crew. He once again looked down at Beverly's unconscious form, memorizing her face. Her skin was nearly translucent, dark smudges underneath her closed eyes, and several dark splatters of Trium blood were dotting her face and neck. She was dressed in a dark medical gown, and he wondered who had undressed her, what they had done with her blood-stained uniform, who had touched her.

"Captain." Picard glanced up and met Wilson's anxious eyes across the bed. "Sir, we're going to bring her out of sedation."

The doctor swallowed, then continued, visibly nervous, which told Picard that the situation was not nearly under control yet. "We've healed as much of the physical damage as we could." Picard looked down at her wrists, and yes, the bruises from what he presumed had been restraints? They were gone. He heard Wilson continue.

"She may panic, she may be afraid, she may lash out, and it may hurt you. But we need you to keep her awake so that she can tell us about why the Trium wanted her. If there is a medical crisis for the Federation, we need to know as soon as possible. Are you ready, sir?"

Picard nodded, not trusting his voice to be steady, and even wishing that he could be the one to bring her out of sedation, rather than Wilson. Distantly he worried that the closer he was when she awoke, the more it may scare her. He didn't want to scare her. He most certainly wouldn't ever touch her again, if it caused her pain, and he roughly pushed that thought away. He couldn't think about their future right now. He needed to know that she would be well, healed, sane, first.

A nurse across the bed tapped a screen suspended over Beverly's body, and immediately he felt a murmur in his mind. She was coming out of sedation.

"Can you sense her yet?" Wilson asked cautiously, and Picard ignored him, highly irritated at the man's impatience.

_Jean-Luc?_ Fear and tension filtered through the connection, taking his breath away and forcing him to clench his fists, because he wanted to place his hands on her, gather her up and comfort her, but then he felt the full snap of her awareness as the sedation wore off. As he watched her face, her eyes opened, she stared directly upwards, then she turned her head slightly, with a wince, and met his gaze.

_I'm so sorry I hurt you, _she said, and his breath hitched at the regret, the apology that rose up from within her, her blue eyes searching his for an apology.

_Please don't touch me yet. _That statement was softer, tinged with sadness. She opened her mouth and croaked, swallowed, tried again, and this time words came out, and he knew that they were intended for the assembled doctors.

"They're crafting a plague to kill us all."

* * *

_Awake_

_I remember the oppressive fear, terror, the horror_

_Someone else is with me, in my mind_

_But I can move_

_and I don't hurt as much_

_and I'm not trapped anymore_

_and the presence is – I can handle him, now_

_Jean-Luc?_

She opened her eyes and saw the Sickbay ceiling again. She turned her head slightly to the side and saw him, with his worry-creased brow and the tension around his mouth, the tightness of his jawline. She sensed his apprehension, his fear, his care for her, and also his fortitude. He was prepared for an onslaught of agony from her, if need be.

_I'm so sorry I hurt you. _

A warm blossom of surprise, then peace, apology. He was all right. He just wanted her to be well, whole, and the desire to comfort radiated from him so strongly…

_Please don't touch me yet,_ she sent to him. The last time she was awake, the connection was unbearable when he touched her, and she couldn't risk that again, not before she told the medical crew what she knew. She swallowed, spoke out loud.

"They're crafting a plague to kill us all."

And her breath hitched when she sensed the deep well of grief coming from him. It was his reaction to hearing her ragged, shattered voice.

* * *

He listened to her broken voice as she began to explain the situation to the gathered group. Her normal timbre had been ruined, and she was raspy. She immediately started describing chemical bonds and neurological pathways, and a nurse reconfigured the screen above her body to reflect her research. He stepped back as she struggled to sit up, because his hands itched to touch her, help her up, but he could not touch her.

He watched as a nurse handed her a padd even as several doctors helped her get to a sitting position on the bed. Her mind was cool, collected, and he wondered if it was always this way or if she was using her research to focus and shut him out.

Her exhaustion was overwhelming, but she spoke quickly, directly for several minutes, the doctors creating models in the air, taking notes, expanding her explanation. Finally, she sighed, leaning back on the tilted biobed, looking up at the slowly rotating models.

_Could you please leave, Jean-Luc?_

He blinked. Was she asking him to leave her alone? For good?

_Just for a few minutes. I need to speak to the counselor._ An undercurrent of anxiety rose up from her.


	15. Chapter 15

York followed him as he left the operating room purposefully, following the doctors who dispersed in every direction, talking intensely amongst themselves. As he walked out the door, his focus seemed to falter, though. She observed him and wondered how proximity affected Picard and Crusher's mental communication. It was obvious that they were speaking to each other mentally in Sickbay. York had spent time with telepathic races on her previous command, and the crew members had obviously been socialized to be discreet when they were holding non-verbal conversations. But Picard was surprisingly easy to read when it came to his care for the doctor. Doctor Crusher was harder to read, though.

York followed Picard out the door, into the corridor, then caught up with him. "A moment of your time?" she called out, and he turned and stopped, waiting for her. She nodded and they went around the bend for additional privacy, then she simply told him straight out: "Starfleet contacted me, asking when you'll be going to the Enterprise."

She watched as he froze, an utterly astonished expression on his face. It was evident that the Enterprise had been the farthest thing from his mind, and again she wondered about the history between him and Crusher. He was consumed with her and her well-being.

With a sigh, she continued. He needed to know the entire situation. "I can delay my answer for a few hours. I told them that you were still recovering from the attack. You can contact them directly. If you would like a shuttle craft I'm happy to offer you one, or you are welcome to remain on this ship for as long as you like."

He nodded in response, still silent, but there was a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes. He understood what she was offering - both a delay in responding that could have serious repercussions for her down the line, or the gift of a shuttle that she couldn't really afford to lose, seeing as she had a smaller vessel with a limited shuttle contingent.

She smiled softly at him, aware of his discomfort, seeing how he needed some time to think, thankful that the corridor was deserted. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to have to ask you. But I wanted to give you some advance warning, because the Federation is going to contact you soon with their wishes. I'll leave you to go get some rest." And she patted him on the arm, nodded and walked away, leaving him speechless in the corridor.

As she left him alone in the corridor, she smiled sadly. It was obvious that he loved Doctor Crusher.

* * *

He wasn't thinking clearly at all, even with the silence in his mind, and he stepped into the darkened quarters and saw the few remnants of their short time together: abandoned coffee mug on the table, black dress hanging up against the wall, the holo sitting on the shelf. The accoutrements were sparse, but already the quarters felt like a shared home. He sat slowly at the table, looking at her mug, then rubbed his head. He needed to make a decision or figure out a way to delay the Federation's orders.

Without warning, he found himself thinking back to the other universe. Sophie, sitting across the table, bright blue eyes and red hair just like her mother, even down to that little crease between her brows that revealed how worried she was. The young woman had a soft but strong voice as she met his gaze. "Mom will come back as soon as she can. I miss her. Papa misses her, too. Terribly. I've…well. I've never seen him like this."

He remembered the other Picard. How that man seemed happy but brittle. And the look on the man's face when Beverly had stepped out of the shuttle. Raw. Unguarded. Needy.

_No._ He wasn't leaving Beverly. He doubted she was even cleared to leave the ship in her condition. And if she wanted to go to the Enterprise, then they'd talk first. And figure out if this mental connection was permanent. But if they served with each other, what would happen with the next crisis? Would they pull apart, in fear of losing each other? Would she confide in someone else? Like the counselor? Would they simply go back to being friends, because it was so much easier?

He didn't need the Enterprise anymore. It was in capable hands with the first officer. He needed to be with Beverly. Fully. He had spent a lifetime on the edge of her life, skirting around her, afraid of being pushed away, never fully committing. He wasn't going to leave her this time, and he wasn't going to let outside circumstances separate them ever again.

* * *

The counselor seemed pleasant, if tense. And Crusher was fine with that. Perhaps his tension was because she was a senior officer? Or because he didn't have a protocol for treating patients with newly formed mental connections? Or because she probably looked half-dead, with hollow, haunted eyes? No matter. Her goal was to get out of Sickbay as soon as possible, so she was going to follow every single damn release protocol until they let her go. She needed a shower, and privacy, and silence. And to see how this connection with Jean-Luc was going to affect their relationship. She had no idea whether the connection could be severed, although it was obviously based upon proximity, because his mind had faded as he left Sickbay. But she couldn't think about him now. Not yet.

"How are you doing?" The counselor's quiet words brought her out of her musings.

"Well, I'm happy to be back on a Federation ship. And I'm glad that the Trium are no longer in my mind."

"Go on."

And she took a deep breath and then began describing what it was like to be violated from the inside of her mind. Hopefully, if she told the counselor everything up front, he would let her leave Sickbay. And she wanted to tell him before Jean-Luc returned. She didn't want to subject Jean-Luc to her horror.


End file.
